


Twelve Months and a Team of Heroes

by Era_Penn



Series: Twelve Months at a Time [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 7/11, 9/11, Angst, Bruce loses it a little, Cookies, Crack, Domestic Violence, Drinking, Father's Day, Friendship, Gen, Holidays, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Humor, Interrogation, Lightsabers, Mouse racing, Team as Family, bake cookies day, cookiegeddon, cookiepocalypse, free slushies, may the fourth, mouse maze, race your mouse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-01 01:51:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4001413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Era_Penn/pseuds/Era_Penn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve months in the lives of the Avengers.</p><p>Angst. Crack. Humor.</p><p>It's the sitcom we've all been waiting for in minifics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. May

Clint blinked against the sudden, blinding light aimed right in his face. His arms strained against their bindings where they were attached to either side of the metal chair. As the black dots in his vision cleared, he found himself staring into the face of an extremely irate Phil Coulson. Clint couldn’t help it; he grinned.

“I trust you understand the position you are currently in, Agent Barton.”

“Perfectly, sir.”

“I expect a full report.”

“With pleasure.”

Coulson’s eyes narrowed, and he dropped a thick metal rod on the table, about six inches in length and adorned by a single, sleek button. “How exactly did this come about?”

“Well, you see, sir, it all started when Tony’s coffee machine broke…”

* * *

“Barton, I need coffee!”

“Fix the damn machine, then, Stark.”

“Coffeeeeeeeeee-”

“Why are you whining to me about this?”

“I’m banned from leaving the tower uncaffeinated without someone following me.”

Clint groaned. “Fine, I’ll take you to get your damn coffee… If I get to drive one of your fun cars.”

Tony looked at him, scandalized. “In New York traffic?”

“Do you want coffee or not?”

“Fiiiiine.”

Clint grinned, and led the way to the garage. They made their way out of the tower to the nearest Starbucks.

* * *

“I do not see how this has anything to do with the problem at hand, Agent.”

“This is where it really starts. See, Tony orders his coffee, the barista delivers it - and then, on his way out the door, she says, ‘May the fourth be with you!’”

“...Go on.”

* * *

Tony’s jaw dropped as he gazed at the barista. “...What?”

“Well, it is Star Wars Day.”

Tony gaped, and Clint was similarly stricken beside him. “Barton,” Stark breathed, “Barton, do you know what this means?”

“What?”

“I finally have an excuse. I can actually do it. You, you’re going to help me - test, and stuff -”

“Like hell -”

“I’m going to make a lightsaber Barton, and you’re going to help me.”

“Hell yes.”

* * *

“What on earth possessed you to agree, Agent Barton?”

“A lightsaber, Phil. A _lightsaber_.”

Coulson heaved a sigh of something like resignation. Clint wiggled his arms, pleased to find his bonds a bit looser. Almost there. “So, next…”

* * *

It took the better part of four hours, but Clint, Tony, and Bruce (they’d picked him up somewhere along the way, he was very enthusiastic), stared at the six inch rod of metal on the table with absolute glee.

“A working prototype of a lightsaber,” Bruce breathed.

“It’s beautiful,” Clint sighed.

“Jarvis, churn out a few more of these, and put one in the mail to Coulson.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Also, get us some jedi costumes ASAP and find us some trouble worthy of the Avengers.”

Clint had a feeling that if Jarvis had a face, he’d be smirking as he replied, “With pleasure.”

* * *

“Jarvis was in on it?”

“Duh. Who did you think got us the jedi robes?”

Coulson sighed, as Clint carefully twisted his right arm. “How did the other Avengers get involved?”

“Well, it really wasn’t difficult -”

* * *

Steve, Natasha, and Thor were gathered in the Avenger’s common room when Tony emerged from the lab, cackling. They were on their feet and ready for anything instantly; Tony cackling like that was never good. That Clint followed him with the widest smirk of all time and Bruce was giggling like a schoolgirl not far behind was alarming, to say the least.

Tony threw the lightsaber handles in their direction, each decorated slightly differently for each Avenger. He then held out his own and pushed the button. A gold beam of light burst from the tip. “May the Fourth be with you,” he said gravely, as the others started to grin. Natasha activated her red saber as Steve’s emerged blue; Thor’s came out lightening white, Clint’s purple, and Bruce’s green.

“On guard,” Tony said, smirking.

“Stark, I think I would kiss you for this if I wasn’t wearing poison lipstick,” Natasha said reverently.

* * *

“So all the Avengers - every single one - just went with it.”

“Yep.”

“None of you thought to question the logistics of six superheroes roaming the streets of New York armed with lightsabers.”

“Well, not exactly…”

* * *

“I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” Bruce said, as he pulled on his jedi robes.

“Yeah, probably not,” Clint agreed cheerfully.

Steve nodded, but also continued to dress in jedi robes.

Tony and Natasha smirked at them all, and Thor just looked confused.

“We’re about to fight Dr. Doom, who makes a pretty good Darth Vader, and doombots, who make for awesome clones, in jedi get up, with lightsabers. This is the best day ever,” Bruce said, decisively, despite his acknowledgement that it wasn’t a good idea.

No one made further protests. Bruce deserved some fun.

* * *

Clint’s arms were free. “Besides, sir; if you’re so upset, why do you still have the one Stark made for you?

“Just in case I need to chop your head off with it, Agent.”

“What color did you get?”

Coulson, it turned out, got a double-sided red saber. Clint barely made it to the vents.


	2. June

**Father’s Day**

Tony woke up in a bad mood. It took him all of ten seconds to figure out why. When Jarvis told him the date and associated holiday (a feature programmed in after one too many missed Valentine’s Days), Tony felt his morning grumpiness plummet from bad mood to Bad Mood. He didn’t bother to do more than pull on a pair of sweats and eight tee-shirts (he was feeling a bit vulnerable) before making his way to the kitchen for coffee.

Father’s Day. _Ugh_. Tony hated Father’s Day. He had years of horrible memories. Getting a Father’s Day gift was hard, but getting one for Howard Stark was just downright awful. He’d tried expensive cars. He’d tried handmade machines that revolutionized technology. And what had he gotten for his troubles?

Usually grounded. Or shipped to boarding school.

Finally making it to the kitchen, he stared at the coffee pot. He’d tried making a supremely awesome one for Howard once. It had not gone well.

Tony threw the coffee machine at the wall, missing an entering Hawkeye by a hair, and his Bad Mood quickly escalated into a BAD MOOD.

“Jesus Tony!”

Tony made a sound akin to a cat hissing, and Hawkeye stopped his wide-eyed gaping at the mess the coffee machine made to eye the genius.

“Uh… are you okay?”

“PEACHY.”

“Yeah, no.”

Tony hissed again, and Clint backed away, hands in the air.

“Just wondering if I need to get ready for some kind of disaster.”

“It’s FATHER’S DAY!” Tony finally exploded. “Everywhere I go all day, everyone’s just going to be talking about the great Howard Stark, about his legacy, about how _of course_ his son has achieved so much, I mean, how could he NOT with such an AWESOME DAD, and everywhere I turn I’m going to collide with old memories, and people who want to discuss old memories, and I haven’t even had any. Fucking. COFFEE!” And then Tony threw all the silverware at the wall too, because he felt like it and it was his house, dammit, before storming away.

* * *

“So… that’s a yes?” Clint asked, watching the billionaire storm off. Then what he’d said sank in, and Clint groaned. Father’s Day. “I need a drink,” he muttered, glancing at the mess of coffee and mechanical parts mixed with spoons on the floor. If he started now, with the vodka, he’d be drunk enough to pass out by noon.

* * *

Tony was right, today was hell. It started about how he expected; people praising Howard Stark, telling him how sorry they were his father couldn’t be here today.

And then. AND THEN.

He would never be prepared for Obadiah Stane, it seemed. A board member is all like, “and your mentor, Obadiah as well.”

Tony’s just relieved he contained the panic until he made it to a bathroom.

Which had a TV in it.

Fox News was already all over his lack of regard for the holiday, and various other networks no doubt were wondering why Tony hadn’t held a memorial of some sort, once again comparing the son to the father and finding nothing but fault.

* * *

Tony finally made it back to his penthouse that night, only to hear the TV already turned on and playing the news.

Dammit.

He was going to be mature. He would walk past the rec room and go straight to bed after several shots of vodka. But then the reporter spoke, and of course talked about Howard Stark, about how hard this day had to be for Tony, after his second father’s death, about his appearance on a talk show last year, mourning the two.

Tony accidentally put the toaster through the TV.

Steve, Bruce, and Clint turned to stare at him. Clint looked pretty understanding, as did Bruce, but Steve’s eyes were full of pity. He opened his mouth.

Tony held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it, Rogers,” he snapped. “Howard was a damn mean drunk and Obadiah tried to kill me on several occasions. Quite frankly, today sucked, and I am going to get drunk and go to bed, because I am an adult and that is my decision to make. There’ll be a new TV in by tomorrow.”

Steve, Bruce and Clint’s jaws were almost on the floor, and Tony reviewed what he had just said. Oops, he may have revealed more about Howard’s drinking habits than he meant to. He turned on his heel and stalked straight back to his room and the alcohol he had waiting for him.

Only a few more hours and this day would finally be over. 

He was surprised to find Clint hanging out in his doorway when he turned around after picking up the bottle.

“Got any more of that?” Clint asked.

Tony held the bottle out to him.


	3. July

“I estimate there are five locations within a reasonable distance, sir.”

Tony nodded. “Plot best route to hit every single one, Jarvis.”

“Of course,” Jarvis says, sounding affronted, as the route pops up on screen. “I would hardly neglect such an important task, sir.”

“Sorry, sorry. Just excited.”

“Hey, Tony, what’re you doing?” Clint asked, dropping from the ceiling.

Tony threw a screwdriver at him. Clint ducked easily. Regular bonding ritual over, the two men turned their attention to the matter at hand.

“It’s July eleventh, Barton. Do you have any idea what this means?”

“...no?”

“Free slurpees.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Every year, on July eleventh, 7/11 - you know, the gas station? - hosts national slurpee day. And they give out free slurpees to everyone. There are five of them in reasonable distance of us here at the tower.”

Now Clint’s eyes are lit up. “Can we invite Natasha? She loves, loves slurpees. I think it was one of the first foods she had as an escapee from the Red Room or something.”

“Did someone mention slurpees?” Bruce asked from the doorway.

“Free slurpees, Bruce. FREE SLURPEES.”

“You are a billionaire.”

“Not the point!” 

Clint and Tony give Bruce matching looks of disgust, and the scientist holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “Okay, I get it. Can I come?”

“Let’s take everyone!” Tony said, excited. “Jarvis -”

“Happy has been instructed to bring the largest vehicle you own, sir,” Jarvis says.

“Perfect!”

* * *

One hulk-out, three Thorcidents, and a sugar-high Clint Barton later, Tony pays for the damages happily.

Totally worth the free slurpees.


	4. August

Tony clapped his hands together and grinned. “Boys and girls, racers of all races; START. YOUR. ENGINES!”

Loud cheering ensued. The gathered scientists crowded closer, jockeying for the best position from which to watch the action.

“ON our left: The reigning champions, GAMMA B!” Tony yelled, gesturing to the smugly grinning research sector.

“AAAAND on our right: The challengers, TECH 17!”

More cheers and whistles.

“May I present our judge for the evening, the World’s Greatest Marksman - CLiiiiiiiiint BAAAARTOOOON!”

More wild cheering as a very dazed Clint Barton was dragged forward through the crowd.

“I still don’t understand what is happening here.”

“I explained everything.”

“No you didn’t. You burst into the common room, looked around, said ‘I need a judge, and Clint’s the only one crazy enough, come on, there are mice!’ grabbed me by the arm, and physically towed me from the room.”

Tony paused. Looked at him. “OH. Well, then, guess I should explain. Today is August 28th.” He looked at Clint expectantly, like that explained everything.

Crickets chirped.

“Parker, turn off your text tone.”

A brown-haired kid from GAMMA B - standing next to Dr. Banner, who was practically thrumming with excitement - saluted, and dug a phone out of his pocket. Tony returned his attention to Clint. 

“I don’t get it,” Clint said.

“It’s national race your mouse day! Technically computer mouse, but that’s just no _fun_.”

“Race your -”

“Tony, what is going on and is it going to result in a natural disaster?”

Tony pouted as cap approached. “NO. It’s tradition. Pull up a seat and watch.” He waved in the general direction of the crowd, and the Avengers moved that way en masse, towards a set of chairs that appeared quite suddenly. “Not you Barton. Like I said, you’re judging.”

Clint groaned, tugged in the other direction, to sit on the other side of … Clint looked more closely at the “racetrack”. Two simple mazes lay there. On one side of each maze was a tiny wooden box; on the other, a piece of cheese.

“With the mazes designed by Jarvis, no one can cheat. We don’t want a repeat of ‘04.” Tony shuddered.

Clint nodded dumbly and took his seat.

“Start your engines!” Tony said. 

Parker and one of the men from the tech division stepped forward and each placed a small mouse in a tiny area on the side of the maze closest to the crowd. Gamma B’s mouse was small, brown, and had big ears. Tech 17’s mouse was larger, white with a black belly.

Silence fell. Clint caught himself leaning forward expectantly.

Tony waved a teeny, tiny little flag, a door slid open, and the mice were off. They quickly got lost. minutes ticked by in breathless anticipation. Then, it seemed, the Gamma B mouse got a little angry.

As if in slow-motion, everyone watched, eyes widening when the little brown mouse took on a green tinge, and started growing. And growing.

“That’s cheating!” Tech 17 wailed, as the hulk-mouse started taking out walls, efficiently reaching its piece of cheese very, very quickly.

Mass chaos ensued.

* * *

Coulson stared at the two bed-bound Avengers in shock. Multiple broken bones, some serious bites from what seemed to be a giant rodent, and cheerful grins were the order of the day.

“What happened.”

“Well, see,” Clint said, “the thing is -”

“No. Wait. I don’t want to know.”

“I blame Bruce for this one,” Tony said from the next bed over. 

“I agree,” Natasha grumbled, nursing a few bites of her own.

“Also my employees, bless their poor little souls,” Tony said, and sniggered.

“...You never declared a winner,” Bruce noted.

Clint looked at him. “Everyone knows crossing the lines in a maze is cheating,” he said. “So Tech 17 are the new champions.”

Bruce leapt at the archer, eyes green.

Coulson closed his eyes as he heard fighting break out outside, where Tony’s employees were huddled. “I really don’t want to know,” he muttered, and walked away, washing his hands of the whole day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the lovely Hawkwind1980 for this month's holiday! :)
> 
> Got some interesting holiday ideas for September? Drop me a comment. I'll pick my favorite!


	5. September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I received a lot of good ideas on what to do for the month of September, but in the end, I decided to do something else. Sorry bout that. This chapter is going to be a lot less fun and a lot more sad.

Steve woke up, and a lot of things had changed. People were different. Food was different. Heck, the future even managed to screw up bananas, of all things, thanks to some plague or other. One thing he did love, though, was all the new technology; connections from people hundreds of miles away were simple and straightforward. 

He discovered a number of blogs, and all of them specialized in some topic or style. His favorites often hosted this day in history. Today in history. On this day fifty years ago. They were brief snippets of information, small tastes of everything he missed.

When Tony gave every single one of his employees the day off on what seemed a random Friday, Steve looked up the date in history. Why not? He had little else to do.

September 11, 2001. On this day in history. Steve read about the Twin Towers. About the tragic loss of dozens of lives. About how quiet the streets of New York were today, when everyone remembered. About how Stark Tower chose to honor the dead by never allowing such a tragedy to occur again.

“Jarvis, where’s Tony?”

“He is currently out flying, Captain, and is likely to remain so for most of the day.”

“Are there any memorial events today.”

“Several, throughout the country.”

“Iron Man doing some flybys? A reminder of how far we’ve come?”

Jarvis stayed silent. “Deploying the iron legion,” he stated after a few long moments.

“The what?!”

News screens started popping up, one by one; first New York stations, then the surrounding states. And on 9/11, Iron Man flew around the world.

9/11 was a tragedy. Heroes had died; mothers, fathers, sons, sisters, brothers. Now, though, people moved forward; found heroes that were just as great to continue the work of saving as many as they could. They grew stronger, tougher, loved harder, stayed truer.

And in memory, Iron Man flew.


	6. October

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Discussions of domestic violence and rape.
> 
> Domestic Violence Awareness Month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a heavy topic. I ask that people remain aware of this and courteous in your comments. 
> 
> Please, if you or someone you know is being subjected to any form of domestic violence, get help.
> 
> Thanks for the help brainstorming how to do this, Hawkwind1980! :)

Thor loved New York. Everyone knew him everywhere he went, and the city was so filled with life. There were always people coming and going, pausing to chat, taking pictures… Thor loved New York.

He also loved Central Park. Not as much as he loved the Way of the Sub, but occasionally he needed a break from the city and went to enjoy the trees and natural life. On one such day he encountered a curiosity: a purple ribbon, tied neatly around the trunk of a tree. Paying attention as he looked around, he spotted several more such ribbons on trees, on lamp posts, on benches. He wandered, following the ribbons around the park. 

It was not long before he stumbled upon a small group of young Midgardian, perhaps the age of the interns which Anthony employed. One young man stood to the front, speaking; he had brown hair and eyes and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. A slightly older, very muscular man was holding his hand, a hoodie pulled up over his face. He was bouncing on his feet slightly. Beside them stood a quiet young woman with blonde hair and green eyes. Another young man with a black eye huddled behind her. There were several others, but these four seemed to be leading the pack. In bags at their side and over their arms they had a number of purple ribbons.

“I think we’ve pretty much covered Central Park,” the brunette boy said. “The other groups checked in; they need some help in the worse neighborhoods. They’ve faced some opposition.”

“Excuse me,” Thor said, using a polite phrase his comrades taught him, “but may I ask why these purple ribbons are of such import?”

The group turned to look at him, a few flinching away from his voice before they recomposed themselves, and Thor regarded them curiously as several jaws dropped. 

“You’re - you’re Thor,” the brunette boy said.

“Indeed. May I enquire as to your title and purpose?”

“Uh… Peter, Parker, name’s Peter,” the boy stumbled. “And well, as to what we’re doing - uh.” He looked up at the man next to him, seemingly out of words.

“It’s October,” the man said. “Domestic violence awareness month. The purple ribbons are to try and get more attention for the cause of ending domestic violence. My name is Wade. Thor. Oh my gosh, Peter, I just talked to _Thor_.” Peter patted his arm.

“Could you explain further?” Thor asked, intrigued. 

“Domestic violence - basically abuse and violence that takes place at the level of home and family, though there’s more to it than that - is currently the leading cause of death among women,” the quiet girl spoke up. “Even higher than car accidents and other murders combined. I’m Shelby.”

“One in four women and one in seventy-one men in the US have experienced rape. Do you know four women?” Wade asked.

Thor nodded.

“Then chances are at least one of them has been or will be raped in her lifetime, and it’s likely that it will be done by her significant other.” 

Thor’s eyes narrowed. “Is this such a large issue among the peoples of Midgard?”

Peter shrugged. “Yeah, sadly. I know Tony Stark does a lot to try and help victims of domestic violence. He has a number of battered women’s shelters across the US, run through the Maria Stark Foundation. I also heard that the Black Widow teaches self-defense classes to anyone who wants to learn whenever she can.”

Thor frowned, thinking. 

“It’s not just physical violence, either. Emotional and verbal abuse is pretty widespread and doesn’t really get the attention it deserves,” the boy with the black eye murmured. 

Thor talked with the group for a long time, and wandered around the park staring at the purple ribbons and thinking for even longer.

* * *

“What’s eating at you, Thor?” Clint asked. The literal stormclouds forming outside the tower when the rest of New York was soaking up the sun tended to be a giveaway to the demigod’s mood.

“I encountered a group of young Midgardians at Central Park today tying up purple ribbons,” Thor said. “And I find their meaning most troubling.”

Clint winced. “Ah, right. October.”

“You are familiar with the custom?”

Clint shrugged, avoiding Thor’s eyes. “Yeah. Spent some time in shelters with my mom when I was younger. My old man was a mean drunk.”

Thor’s frown deepened. “I wish to help,” he said. “But I am not sure how.”

Clint sighed. “Talk to Tony or Tasha. They’ll have more ideas than me. I just go to fundraisers when Tony asks and let tiny women beat me up at Tasha’s request.”

Thor nodded and set off to find his other teammates. The first one he encountered was Steve; when he explained his errand, the captain joined him in attempting to find their two most elusive team members to offer their assistance as required.

Tony Stark, as they expected, was located in his workshop, humming over a small piece of seemingly inconsequential metal. “Whatcha need, big buff blond brigade?” Tony asked, still focused on the metal.

“I wish to inquire as to how I may aid with this… domestic violence awareness month several young Midgardians informed me of, and the captain agrees,” Thor said.

Suddenly, he was faced with Tony’s undivided attention. Thor felt the weight of Tony’s massive intellect and focus fall on his shoulders as piercing brown eyes rested on him and the captain. “That… isn’t what I was expecting. How do you want to help, then?”

“I do not know.”

“Well, there’s a lot of ways.” Tony started ticking off fingers. “Sam volunteers at my New York shelters, talking to battered women and helping them with their kids. Natasha teaches, coordinates, and maintains self-defense classes for my employees and at several of my shelters. You, Cap, should put in some media appearances… well, really, we all should. I’ll get Pepper on it…” Tony trailed off, thinking. “The two of you could definitely help with self-defense classes. A lot of the people in them are going to be pretty wary of you, by virtue of being loud, large men, but it’ll probably help them with their confidence levels. I know Clint goes to let himself get beat up often enough, too…”

“Guess we’d better go find Natasha, then,” Steve said. “I didn’t know you had shelters set up.”

Tony shrugs at the implied question, eyes shadowed. “Mom and I spent time in a few. She’d be glad the Maria Stark Foundation is repaying the favor.” He turned back to his work, and Thor found himself slightly relieved to be released from the full force of Tony’s intellect. “I’ll let you know if I think of any other ways you can help out.”

Thor recognized a dismissal when he heard one and left with Steve, brow furrowed. He did not like to consider the circumstances that led to his shieldbrothers’ visits to these shelters.

“Take Bruce with you, if he’s feeling up to it,” Tony called as the door slid shut.

* * *

It’s a media frenzy, when the sharks learn that Thor, Steve, and Bruce regularly visit and assist at shelters for battered women. That the Black Widow teaches self-defense. That Tony Stark donates copiously to shelters as well as building and maintaining some of his own. They stand up to the world and take a stand: domestic violence needs to end.

At first, it seems to achieve nothing. Tony smiles sadly at them, and says, “Well, at least we’re doing something.”

So they keep on doing something, because how could they not? It makes Thor proud to stand beside his allies even over a matter that so many deem to be small.

It takes over a decade to notice the slowly dropping domestic violence rates. The Avengers spend all their living years working to end abuse and domestic violence. The public speculates, and a few of them confirm their less-than-pleasant childhoods. As new members join, they take up the mantle. It’s hard, grueling work. The reward though - smiles from people who haven’t so much as quirked a lip in decades, children laughing because they’re safe, at least for tonight; young women with healing bruises deciding that this time, _they aren’t going back, dammit_ , young men who are told that surviving doesn’t make them weak, it makes them strong -

Eventually, the message gets out. People start believing it could be possible to put an end to abuse. When they believe it, they start working for the cause. One day, long into the future, the Maria Stark Foundation finds that, despite the will of their long-gone founders, they have nothing to do with the funds set aside for domestic violence awareness and protections. Thor and Jarvis are the only ones left to see it, and they burst with pride, because they were a part of that.

And it all started because Thor saw a purple ribbon tied to a tree by a random passerby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some DV Resources: If you believe your computer use may be checked or are worried about someone finding you looking at these sites, I’ve included a hotline number you can call. You may also try to use computers at a local library or one from a friend to get more information.  
> pinterest  
> hotline Or call the hotline directly: **1-800-799-7233 | 1-800-787-3224 (TTY)**  
> helpguide  
> nnedv  
> shelters  
> online self-defense course


	7. November

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absurdity Day, November 20

Loki giggled in absolute glee. Midgardians had an entire day dedicated to _absurdity_ , to _chaos_.

As much as he hated to admit it, he thought with a sigh, this pitiful little planet full of miserable little mortals was starting to grow on him. They were all _insane_.

Loki sipped his coffee, leaning against the polished bar and breathing in the scent of the muffins he had in the oven.

“What the -”

Loki smirked and turned around. “Good morning,” he chirped.

Tony Stark stared at him. His hair stuck up all over his head, squished into messy, odd ridges by oil and grease. The thin white undershirt, covered in smudges of grease and oil stains, left nothing to his imagination. The mortal was actually somewhat attractive like this.

“Good… morning…” Tony said, and zeroed in on the coffee machine, which smelled divine. 

Tony was halfway through the mug when it clicked and he pulled it away from his mouth in horror. “This is the best coffee I’ve ever had in my life, so please tell me it isn’t poisoned.”

“I certainly hope not,” Loki said, sipping his own mug again. The oven beeped, and he got up to remove the muffins from the heat, using a wave of his hand to cool them to a decent eating temperature. Popping one in his mouth, he hummed. “These blueberries your world has are divine.”

“The best,” Tony agreed, still looking vaguely dazed as he took a muffin.

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

“I didn’t sleep with him!” Tony said at once, shrinking beneath the archer’s glare

“I merely wanted to drop by for a visit,” Loki sniffed. “I don’t see why you are so worked up.” Inside, he smirked. This was going so well!

“You only tried to destroy the planet!”

“It was just one measly little army from the edge of the universe,” Loki rolled his eyes. “That was hardly even worthy of being called mischief!”

“Brother!”

Loki winced. “I am not your brother,” he said, “I turn blue, as you may recall.”

“Yes, and also into a mare, but you then remained my sister!” Thor boomed cheerfully.

Tony choked on his coffee and Clint fell over. Loki smirked, and let his hair grow long and curled, his shape curvier. Tony let out a vague sort of whine.

And it wasn’t even ten o’clock.

* * *

Loki had to admit that Natasha’s careful sharpening of her knives in the chair on the other side of the room was _slightly_ unnerving. But only slightly.

“So you’re sure you have nothing to do with all the trees in Central Park turning into mallorn.”

“I am quite sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mallorn. The trees found in Lothlorien in the Lord of the Rings.”

“Your Midgardian stories escape me.”

“Hm.”

* * *

“Why is every food in the fridge and freezer mysteriously transformed into ice cream of the corresponding flavor? That being said, why is ham flavored ice cream this good?”

Loki grinned widely as Stark entered the living room with a spoon hanging out of his mouth. 

Stark frowned at him. “Also, why are you still here? Hasn’t anyone called and told SHIELD on you yet?”

“I believe your comrades are… relieved to have me somewhere they can keep an eye on me.”

“Makes sense,” Tony mused. “Not. Why are you even here?”

Loki smirked, and Tony raised his hands and backed away slowly.

After all, it was absurd to believe that Loki wasn’t up to _something_ more nefarious than turning food into pizza and creating fantasy tree breeds.

* * *

Nothing.

Happened.

Everyone was understandably concerned.

* * *

“I vote we give Loki a full pardon and some kind of award.”

“I agree.”

“Clint. Tony,” Steve groaned, “No.”

“The pink suits you. It suits Fury even better, of course, brings out that lovely skin tone.”

“I will kill you, Stark. No one will find the body.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked it! 
> 
> Please go take [this survey](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/TGX5JRV) to let me know which fic you want me to work on next!


	8. December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 18, Bake Cookies Day

Bruce cracked his knuckles. “You ready, Jarvis?”

“I have located over one hundred viable recipes, Dr. Banner.”

“ _Perfect._ ”

* * *

It started, as all projects on evil mastermind level, at midnight. No one knew except the co-conspirators of Bruce and Jarvis. No one even suspected. All the other Avengers were passed out in bed after a disaster - Hulk had been deemed unnecessary this time around. Even Coulson had collapsed as soon as they returned. Steve would be up in approximately ten hours; Tony and Clint would be in bed for at least fourteen. Natasha probably would get up when Steve did, though Bruce doubted she would sleep that long. Coulson was a bit of a wild card. And Thor wouldn’t get up until someone made him; he’d been known to sleep upwards of twenty hours, particularly after battles where electricity was in high demand.

Bruce grinned, rolled up his sleeves, and set the ovens to 350 degrees.

* * *

Steve woke up at nine forty-five and yawned. He threw on sweats and a plain white tee, filled a large water bottle, tied on his running shoes, and headed up to the common room, to see if anyone else had woken up yet. He smelled a mixture of sweet and cinnamon on the air and smiled pleasantly. It was a nice scent.

The elevator doors opened onto the Avengers common floor. Steve took one step into the shared space and froze as a wall of delicious smell slammed into him. He felt himself start drooling, an automatic, involuntary reaction. Sugar, cinammon, nutmeg, a hint of vanilla, something carmalized…

Steve moved unconsciously towards the massive kitchen, and froze in the doorway. Bruce cackled over a tray of cookies, carefully scooping them onto a nearby cooling rack. Every available surface was covered in baked treats. Snickerdoodles adorned the counter by the sink. Hershey’s kiss drop cookies covered the adjourning counter. Chocolate chip cookies had overtaken the majority of the bar, though they surrendered some territory to the massive pile of frosted sugar cookies that had commandeered the end. They smelled delicious, were decorated tantalizingly.

Over them all, Bruce rubbed his hands together in glee like the mad scientist the Avengers fought last week, and cackled like Tony Stark after a week-long blackout engineering binge.

Steve, despite his desperate desire to eat cookies, backed away slowly. Bruce looked up as his foot scuffed the carpet, and his eyes narrowed, zeroing in.

“Steve, good morning.”

“...Good...Morning… I was just heading out for a run.” 

Bruce nodded and smiled almost viciously. “Oh, could you pick a few things up from the store on your way home.”

Steve nodded warily, and something started printing from the printer in the living room.

After the fourth page, Steve gulped. Finally it stopped, and Steve took the six-page, two-columned list from the printer. Turning around, still wide-eyed with terror, he almost collided with Natasha. “Help,” he croaked.

“Skip the run,” she advised, watching Bruce beam at them.

“Yep,” he agreed, and made his way out the door, Natasha following him.

* * *

Clint woke up after fourteen hours asleep to the smell of something hazelnut drifting through the vents. Curious, he dropped down into his actual room (he felt safer in the vents after a rough mission) and changed into jeans and a t-shirt. He left the room, heading for the common area. When he arrived, he took one step out of the elevator and froze. A wall of scents and warmth slammed into him, stopping him in his tracks. Steve and Natasha pushed past him, climbing into the elevator and stabbing at the buttons for their floors like their lives depended on it. 

Clint breathed in deep, trying to regain his sense of anything but smell. Hazelnut, coffee, mint, and chocolate scented sweetness drifted through the air like a miasma of heaven. He licked his lips. Traversing the entryway/suiting up zone Clint slammed to a halt again in the living room. Tables, couches, the shelf above the TV… every available space was filled with plates upon plates upon plates of cookies. Mint-chocolate-chip, vanilla raspberry, chocolate chocolate-chip, white-chocolate macadamia nut.

It was a five-year-old’s wet dream, and Clint was nothing if not a toddler. He whimpered in pure joy.

“Clint! You’re awake!”

Clint’s eyes widened in horror at the appearance of the Baker. He’d never get a slice of all this deliciousness now, he thought, pouting. Then he actually looked at Bruce.

Bruce looked like something out of a horror movie tailored for desperate chefs. Eggs, flour, sugar, frosting, and numerous unnamed spots of ingredients coated the genius from head to toe. His eyes were deranged, and he brandished a spatula in one hand, a broken mixer under the other elbow. 

“Um. Are you okay, doc?”

“How could I not be?” Bruce said, and giggled. Actually _giggled_.

Clint suddenly had a very, very bad feeling, and he remembered Steve and Natasha’s desperate dash for the elevator with a growing sense of horror. ‘The Baker’ seemed like a suitably ridiculous yet terrifying supervillain name, he realized, and started to back away slowly.

His escape attempt was doomed. Bruce grabbed his upper arm and cheerfully dragged him into the kitchen, making his way carefully through the maze of cookies carefully stacked on plates on the floor. Bruce’s eyes narrowed dangerously when Clint stumbled, coming precariously close to knocking over the leaning tower of chocolate pecan cookies to his left. Clint held his breath, navigating the remainder of the room with a care usually dedicated to the navigation of a minefield. 

“Taste these,” Bruce demanded, and held out a tray. 

Clint grinned, and obliged happily. Oooh, peanut-butter with chocolate frosting!

Then Bruce thrust another cookie in his direction.

And another.

And another….

* * *

Tony yawned and stretched, climbing into the elevator and pressing the button for the common floor. “J, how long was I asleep?” he mumbled. 

“Sixteen hours, sir,” Jarvis replied, sounding oddly gleeful about something.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “What’re you doin’?” he asked.

“I’m quite sure I don’t know to what you are referring,” Jarvis replied.

Tony gave up. He’d figure it out after more coffee, he decided, draining the mug in his hand. The elevator doors opened. Hawkeye lay passed out on his stomach, hands stretching towards the elevator in a desperate bid for freedom. The smell of a hundred different types of cookies reached Tony and he just about collapsed from instant scent-induced sugar rush. He caught the scent of coffee, chocolate, caramel, irish cream, strawberry, and … was that coconut?

“No… flee… flee while you still can,” Clint gasped, dragging himself forward across the floor like a ghoul from a horror movie.

Too late, Tony thought as the elevator slid shut behind him, and his favorite Avenger came careening around a corner, carrying a tray full of at least thirteen different kinds of cookie. “Bruce?” he asked, hesitantly, “What’s up, buddy?”

“It’s national Bake Cookies Day,” Bruce said, voice high-pitched and giggly. Tony’s eyes widened. It was worse than he thought. It was a _legitimate holiday_. “Try some! Here -” Bruce offered him something … chocolate… smelled of coffee…

“Doomed,” Clint groaned from the floor behind him, but Tony couldn’t help it. He ate the cookie. And another…. and another….

* * *

“Sit-rep on the Avengers,” Coulson said upon waking. His immediate, daily demand.

“Dr. Banner is baking in the kitchen. Master Stark and Agent Barton are also on the common floor. Ms. Romanov and Captain Rogers abandoned the building approximately four hours ago. Prince Thor is still asleep in his chambers.”

Jarvis sounded far too delighted for… six thirty in the evening. Coulson sighed. He hadn’t gotten back to the tower until two in the morning, and he’d been running on very little sleep anyway. Fourteen hours wasn’t too unreasonable. “Why are you so happy, Jarvis?”

“Master Stark and Agent Barton seem to have entered a cookie-induced sugar coma, Agent Coulson.”

“...Repeat that.”

Jarvis did, sounding all too smug. Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose and rang Natasha and Steve. The paperwork was going to be terrible.

* * *

Steve, Natasha, and a newly awoken Thor joined Coulson in the elevator. 

“I haven’t been here since Clint saved us at four,” Steve mumbled, sounding dazed. “It… is it even possible for there to be more…”

“Shut up,” Natasha demanded, and in those two unrefined words Coulson learned everything he needed to know. He took a deep breath and held it before the elevator doors opened. Good thing too, he thought, noting that the other three in the elevator started moving forward as if in a trance. 

Tony and Clint were collapsed in the entry, both with big stomachs, reaching for the elevator like their lives depended on it. Steve, Natasha and Thor took no notice. Coulson checked - still had a pulse, good. He followed his team. An eerie glow came through the windows, the setting sun filtering through gaps in the piles and piles of cookies. Everywhere, cookies.

Cookiepocalypse.

Cookiegeddon.

COOKIES.

Bruce appeared from among the shadowy stacks, grin wide and brilliant in the evening light. “Go ahead,” he breathed. “Have some.”

That was all it took for the three Avengers to dig in. Coulson opened his mouth to intervene.

He tasted butter and cinnamon on his tongue. He breathed in. Bruce offered him a plate of chocolate coffee.

Bruce laughed.

* * *

Nicholas James Fury closed the file on his desk. He pulled every version of “classified” stamp he had from their designated drawer, and started stamping. It would be a nightmare if anyone ever found out that the entirety of the Avengers, their backup teams, seventy-three additional SHIELD agents, and two vigilantes had been beaten by one of their own.

Bruce Banner had baked over two hundred different cookie recipes in a twenty-four hour period, ate at least fifty individual cookies, and collapsed. When he’d woken to see the havoc he’d wrought, he laughed.

Fury shuddered. If he ever heard a laugh like that again, it would be too soon.


	9. January

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> January 16th: Appreciate a Dragon Day
> 
> “You know,” Clint said, “When I said we should celebrate appreciate a dragon day, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

“We should definitely celebrate Appreciate a Dragon Day,” Clint said, and Thor perked up even as Tony and Steve rolled their eyes.

Coulson feels he really should have taken more note of that.

* * *

“No really,” Clint said, “It’s tomorrow, we should do something.”

Thor looked bizarrely excited, and Coulson feels he really, really should have noted the change.

* * *

Clint stared up at the behemoth in blue scales in front of him. It eyed him back, an epic staredown. “Magnificent, is he not?” Thor said in awe, seemingly not noticing that Clint was very determinedly not looking away from the rather large teeth involved.

“Oh, definitely,” Clint said, because, well, true. “Probably the most magnificent creature I’ve ever set eyes on, I’ve gotta say.”

The dragon looked tempted to preen, but instead her eyes narrowed and zeroed in on Thor, inching closer to -

“Thor, bad idea buddy, if mama bears are deadly, I do not want to upset a mama dragon.”

“I have never seen a dragon egg or dragon hatchling!” Thor said, watching the baby dragon and the two unhatched eggs in the nest under their mother’s paws. Then, he crossed the invisible line, and the long, lithe tail lashed out, throwing Thor towards the entrance of the cavern with enough force to shatter stone.

Clint backed up slowly. “Right, sorry to disturb you,” he said, and turning on a heel, fled.

Claw scratched against stone behind him and Clint ran faster. Thor was running too, by now, having gotten up from where he fell and barrelling ahead of Clint, absolutely laughing his ass off. Clint was shrieking like a little girl, and he was not ashamed to admit that. Anyone would with a massive angry mama dragon on their tail, dammit! A massive roar shook the cave, and Clint put on more speed. Bursting out of the cavern and into broad daylight, Clint finally caught up with Thor across the clearing, where the footing was much less treacherous along the well-worn dirt path leading to the cavern. They ran right back to the festival happening in the next clearing over before bending over to gasp for breath.

“They live!” one of Thor’s friends - Fandral, he was pretty sure it was Fandral - exclaimed. He didn’t look pleased, and Clint realized why when Hogun held out a hand and collected a few gold coins from each member of the party. 

“You know,” Clint said, catching his breath, “When I said we should celebrate Appreciate a Dragon Day, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

“It is tradition on Asgard to prove one’s mettle as a warrior by approaching a nesting dragon!” Thor laughed.

Clint, finally breathing normally, froze as a screech rent the air. The entire festival (stuffed dragon sellers and all) froze around him, and as one, turned to look into the sky.

At the very, very angry dragon seemingly focused on Clint, who was backing away slowly. “Thor, this might be a really, really good time to head home.”

Thor’s eyes were wide where the focused on the dragon. She was beautiful against the ashy gray sky, Clint had to admit, but he was a little more focused on the _friggin fire blooming from her friggin claws_. The three Asgardians backed up with Clint. Lady Sif had sniffed and told them she would ensure their funerals were magnificent as Thor had dragged them along, and the one who was always eating had complained he wasn’t built for running. Clint felt very envious in that moment. He wanted to be sitting around eating roast duck and potatoes!

“Lads, let us run for our lives!” Thor said cheerfully, and as one, the four turned on their heel and ran, the dragon’s screeches following behind them as they took off, fire licking at their heels. “HEIMDALL!” Thor bellowed, and golden light filled the air as they approached the area where they had arrived.

Clint sighed in relief and reminded himself never to discuss supposedly mythical beings in the thunderer’s hearing range again as they landed on the balcony of the tower. Tony came running out, looking very worried and staring at something behind Clint. Clint turned slowly. Yep. Dragon. In New York.

Coulson was going to blame him for this, he just knew it.

* * *

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!” 

Clint winced, pressing the cool sponge to one of his many minor burns. “I didn’t plan to go to another realm and meet an actual dragon,” he whined.

Coulson rubbed his temples and turned on Thor. 

“It was a most magnificent foe, was it not?” Thor said cheerfully.

“Thor. New York gets flattened by monsters and supervillains regularly enough without you contributing.”

Thor wilted a little under Coulson’s stare.

“As such,” Coulson continued, “I am instituting a new rule. Any off-world or cross-country field trips, and you lot had better have signed a permission slip. Excluding Tony, he already does them for Pepper.”

The Avengers as a whole groaned. _Paperwork_.


	10. February

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> National Inventor's Day, February 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHA NO it's not super late I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT
> 
> THE SHEEP ARE LYING

“ _Phil_ ,” Clint hissed from the vents.

Phil looked up and blinked. “This seems like a bad sign for how my day is going to go,” he said to no one in particular.

“Thursday.”

“What about it?”

“So you know how we’ve all got this habit of celebrating weird holidays?”

Phil’s eyes narrowed, and he capped his pen, giving Clint his full attention. That was not what he wanted to hear. “What about it?”

“Thursday - February 11th - Phil, it’s national Inventor’s Day.”

Phil groaned. “Oh, lord. I can’t decide if this is going to be better or worse than cookie-geddon.”

* * *

The morning dawns bright. Quiet.

 _Too_ quiet.

Either all the Avengers are in bed, a very rare occurrence, or this day is about to go horribly, incredibly wrong. Phil is betting his money on the latter. He climbs out of bed with the grace of a jungle cat; secret agents who handle superheroes like Captain America do not roll out of bed.

He puts on a suit and makes a coffee. If there’s one thing he has learned about wrangling superheroes, it is that it pays to be caffeinated, even if it takes a few extra minutes.

Finally, coffee in one hand and a large stack of paperwork in the other, Phil made his way out of his suite and into the Avengers’ main kitchen.

Much to his shock, despite the silence, he found Steve, Tony, Bruce, and Natasha congregated in the kitchen. Steve was humming lightly as he flipped pancakes and shuffled bacon in alternate motions. Natasha was efficiently dumping fruit into the blender. Tony and Bruce were slouched over the counter, hands firmly wrapped around coffee mugs and faces buried in folded arms. 

Phil couldn’t decide if the silence was comforting or horrifying. 

“Good morning, Phil,” Steve said.

“Good morning, Steve,” Phil said. (Hah, he got to call cap Steve.)

Tony and Bruce mumbled something approximating a greeting into their arms as Natasha nodded to him.

“You’ve got eggs,” she said. 

Phil moved to the stove at the other end of the large kitchen, opening the cupboards above it to pull out a pan. Egg duty wasn’t so bad. Bacon duty was the worst.

As the scent of the bacon in Steve’s second skillet started to filter out of the kitchen, a shuffling, stumbling pad of footsteps drew Phil’s attention to the door. Clint stumbled in, looking as nervous as Phil felt. The archer eyed the two scientists sitting at the bar with vague apprehension and moved to get himself a coffee as well, efficiently pulling a cup out of the cupboard for each Avenger present as well. Clint, after a few disastrous attempts at cooking, had been relegated to coffee-and-juice duty. Phil suspected the archer was faking the lack of cooking skills, but didn’t call him out on it.

“So what’s everyone up to today?” Steve asked innocently.

“‘Ve got a thing,” Tony mumbled. Bruce gestured vaguely in his direction with a nod.

“Science stuff?” Steve asked.

Phil winced. Don’t encourage them, he prayed, seeing Clint look towards the heavens where he stood. 

“No,” Tony said, staring sadly at his empty mug. “Yes. Well, kinda?”

Natasha rolled her eyes and refilled the mug in a smooth movement.

“Thank you,” Tony said, and promptly drained half of it. Coulson could see his brain starting to come back online, the caffeine hitting his system. 

“So, how do you kind of have a science thing?”

“It’s National Inventors’ Day,” Tony said. “And it’s the day that the final judging of the Stark Industries Inventing Competition for Bright Young Minds takes place. Bruce and I are judging.”

It was much worse than Coulson thought.

“That’s great! Do you mind if I tag along?”

No. No, this could not be happening. He could see interest in Clint and Natasha’s eyes as well. No.

“Us too!” Clint said.

There had to be some way Phil could still stop this. “I don’t see any permission slips,” he said.

“Pepper signed ours,” Bruce muttered as Tony snorted.

Natasha neatly produced three from… somewhere… and set them in front of Phil. With a nice pen.

Damn.

* * *

This… actually wasn’t a disaster. Yet. There was still an hour left, Phil wasn’t ruling out any last-minute supervillain attacks. 

“Relax, Phil,” Clint said.

Phil sighed. Really, the day had been really neat. The contest had four categories; under eight, eight through twelve, thirteen through sixteen, and seventeen through twenty. Prizes included scholarships, patents, and prestige. A lot of the kids were psyched to meet the Avengers who came as well, though all the members of the two older groups clearly favored Tony and Bruce. Right now the top contestant for the overall first prize was an eleven year old with a carefully designed water filtration system that had Bruce absolutely gleeful. Tony had been heard discussing marketing options with the girl’s parents. Heavy consideration was also being given to a young man with a sticky cording that could be massively helpful in search-and-rescue. Phil needed to remember to look into that; the sticky white cord was familiar.

* * *

Nothing happened. Phil was too stunned to appreciate the calm day.

He needed a vacation.


	11. March

**March 1**

“Yes, I know that the twentieth is Extraterrestrial Abduction Day, and no, Thor, you’re not allowed to celebrate it. Neither is Loki. If he tries, there will be… consequences. We’re celebrating Near Miss Day on the twenty-third instead. God knows you lot have enough of them.”

And that was how Phil channeled the Avengers into a slightly less destructive holiday to celebrate, and also accidentally encouraged their ongoing determination to celebrate weird holidays every month.

* * *

“Jarvis has put together a film reel of the most epic near-misses each Avenger has encountered in the last year,” Phil stated.

“Um, Phil, why is Loki here?” Clint asked, side-eyeing the god uncomfortably.

“Because he’s one of the judges,” Phil decided, not wanting to question further. Better a Loki in sight and relatively calm than out of sight and potentially causing mass panic. “Jarvis and I are also judges.”

“...Judges of what, exactly,” Steve asked.

“The near-misses. There will be awards for silliest, stupidest, luckiest, closest shave, and most terrifying. There will also be a special award revealed at the end for the idiot with the most near-misses. Anything that resulted in actual injury worse than bruises is immediately disqualified, as technically it isn’t a miss. The winner also gets a Darwin Awards Honorable Mention, complete with their funniest near-miss clips being showcased for the entire world.”

“Wasn’t this holiday to celebrate the fact that Earth almost got hit by an asteroid but didn’t?”

Phil just gave Bruce a Look as Loki sniggered and magically conjured up a judges’ table (green) where Phil took a seat and Jarvis projected a hologram of a young blonde man with sharp brown eyes and narrow fingers. The other Avengers took the cue and took seats of their own, Tony and Clint fist-bumping.

“May the best archer win,” Clint said.

“You wish,” Tony retorted.

* * *

Silliest: Thor

The winner of the silliest near-miss is unanimously given to Thor by judging the level of laughter each video evokes. 

The video opens on a fight the Avengers had with some mutant sewer monsters, and everyone grimaces for a moment; it had taken a week to get the smell off. The camera zooms in on Thor, who is standing triumphantly over the fallen body of a sewer monster. He looks like the god he is.

Tony starts to grin in his seat on the couch; he remembers this. Jarvis played this for him on repeat in glorious HD for a week.

All of a sudden, a mutant sewer monster jumps out of a pile of gunk nearby. Thor goes from triumphant to alert in a split second and dives out of the way. His feet get tangled with those of the dead monster, and he trips.

Face-first into a pile of green slime.

It only takes a moment for Thor to climb to his feet, trying desperately to wipe his tongue and face clean. He’s also looking around, probably hopeful that no one saw. He looks much less like a god, and more like an embarrassed teenager. He’s also covered in green and gray goo.

Thor sighed where he was watching the video. “I had almost forgotten,” he groaned.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Clint said, giggling maniacally, “Tony and I won’t let you.”

“I am most gratified,” Thor said, very dryly.

* * *

Stupidest: Natasha

This video opens on Natasha racing down the hallways of Stark Tower, trying to talk to a non-responsive Jarvis. Natasha turns a bit pink where she’s sitting in the loveseat as the others watch in bemusement. 

Video-Natasha continues darting down hallways and around corners. “Jarvis, respond. Come on, what has Tony done this…”

She turns a corner and freezes. At the end of the hallway are a dozen HYDRA agents, back turned. Natasha executes a smooth roll out of sight just as one of the agents starts to turn.

“What is it?” Another agent harshly demands.

“Thought I heard something. Must’ve been my imagination.”

Natasha breathes a sigh of relief and smooths over her jumpsuit. She glances around, nodding in satisfaction when she notices no one is watching, and prepares to take the agents on. The video cuts to black.

Tony is almost suffocating from the weight of the laughter he’s trying to to let out. Clint is giggling in terrified humor as he eyes Natasha warily. Thor is full-on belly laughing, and Steve is smirking.

Natasha sighs. “That’s what I get for letting my guard down,” she grumbles.

Tony loses it.

* * *

Luckiest: Tony

Tony blinks as the video opens on the battle against giant slugs a few month previously. “Oh, no,” he says. “Really? This one?”

Clint is already sniggering.

In the video, giant slugs slowly ooze along sidewalks. Some are acidic, leaving burning trails in their wake. Thankfully, they seem to have no interest in most buildings, civilians safely out of the way. The scene cuts to Tony, hovering high above a large group of slugs trying to get into Central Park. He’s dodging slug sneezes and the goop they turn into when he blows them up with a mix of missiles and repulsors. He pauses in midair for the moment, probably talking with Jarvis or the other Avengers. Less than half an inch behind his head, slug slime goes flying by in glorious HD. It hits a tree, which starts to melt. Tony doesn’t even notice - he flies straight back into the fray, and the video ends.

Steve looks horrified. “Tony, you need to be more careful!”

“I don’t have eyes in the back of my head!”

“Jarvis could.”

Tony falls silent for only a moment. “Well - Clint had my back.”

“Sure did,” Clint agrees. “I mocked him for that for at least a month after the fact. And I’m going to do it again.”

Tony groans. “Look what you’ve done,” he tells Steve.

* * *

Closest Shave: Clint

Clint winces as the video opens; he’s pretty sure he’s going to get the Steve Lecture™ too, after this one. Maybe a Natasha Glare™ or a Phil Look™ as well, if he’s lucky - all three would put him ahead of Tony on the tally. It’s a typical Doombot fight - and Clint’s pinned. Four Doombots closing in on his roof, and he’s slowly backing away. Tony was coming, but too far to risk a catch midair - Clint did _try_ not to die.

He takes out the first Doombot with an exploding arrow that send shards of metal all over the place, taking out one of the other Doombots with the shrapnel. Now there are two, and they are getting far too close. Clint tosses his bow aside, pulling out an arrow for one hand. He waits for it. Waits for it. When the Doombots are barely two feet away, the other Avengers watching holding their breath, Clint moves. He slides forward, swiping the legs out from under the first bot and launching himself upwards over it, to bury the arrow into its metal head. Immediately he ducks. The other Doombot’s laser comes so close that, even though they know better, the watching Avengers panic for a second. He emerges unscathed, just as Tony finally shows up to take out the last Doombot.

“Oh my gods. Clint, I am so sorry -” Tony is freaking out, and Clint sighs.

“Not your fault, Tony. You came as quick as you could. Besides, no lasting damage was done.”

“No _lasting_ damage,” Phil states sharply.

“Agent Barton returned to the Tower with his hair three centimeters shorter,” Jarvis reported. 

Clint smirks; he’s got all three as Steve opens his mouth and starts to lecture. Natasha is glaring at him and Phil is giving him a Look. Tony pouts, realizing he’s now behind in the tally. “So that’s why my haircut schedule is off,” Clint comments, and watches the fireworks.

* * *

Most Terrifying: Steve

Sometimes, being a superhero was a lot like being in a horror movie. The next video opens on Avengers Tower gone dark. 

“I’ve fixed that problem,” Tony grumbles. “Magical static, my ass.”

Steve is marching down long, empty hallways. His eyes dart side to side; he looks everywhere except behind him, peering around corners and carefully using a flashlight to highlight dark corners. He has his shield slung over his back, and he’s trusting it to guard his back. 

The other Avengers look on in horror as a tall, slender figure with no face slips up behind Steve, who is slowly making his way through each Avenger’s floor. They all know the only other Avenger still standing at this point is Tony, but Steve doesn’t.

The slender figure follows Steve silently, and they hear nothing but the crackling static of Steve’s comms as someone tries to kick in the other end.

“-eve - don’t - around -” Tony’s voice is obscured, and Steve can’t make out enough of the message to act on it, so he keeps on moving.

“Steve, don’t turn around,” Tony murmurs, letting the others know what video Tony couldn’t. He looks a little stressed as Steve keeps searching, followed by the odd figure. 

It seems like an eternity before Steve makes it to the communal floor balcony, where he stares in horror at the smoking wreck of the machines that are used to dismantle the Iron Man armor. “Shit, Tony,” he says, and turns slightly to inspect it. His eyes widen as he catches movement at the corner of his eyes, and whips around just as the slender figure reaches out -

Tony scoops Steve up with mere centimeters between the slim white finger and the supersoldier’s chest. His faceplate pops up, and they catch him yelling “-it Steve, I told you not to turn around!”

Tony winces as Steve flushes.

“Pot, kettle,” Clint says, and Steve’s flush turns into an expression of begrudging resignation.

“That was the worst,” Tony says. “I’d already watched Clint, Natasha, and Hulk vanish before my eyes, and I came around, and I knew metal stopped it, since I didn’t disappear, so your back was safe thanks to the shield, and you _turned around -_ ”

“Hey, hey,” Steve says, a little surprised - he’d known it was close, but he hadn’t realized it was _that_ close. “I’m okay.”

Tony takes a deep breath, and nods. “What’s the next video?” he demands. No one calls him out on the subject change.

* * *

Most Near-Misses & Darwin Award: Clint

“Next up is our award for most near-misses in the last 365 days, and an honorable mention Darwin Award,” Phil said. “Anyone care to take bets on the winner?”

“Ten on Tony,” Steve says promptly.

“My bet’s on Clint,” Natasha says.

“I too, believe Clint shall be victor,” Thor booms.

“Tony,” Bruce says drily. “Because I see what he gets up to in the ‘shop.”

Phil nods. “Jarvis, the tally?”

On the screen, Tony and Clint’s names flash into being. Under Tony’s name appears a flashing number: 387. There’s a pause, probably for dramatic effect on Jarvis’ part, and then a flashing 402 appears under his name.

“Yes!” Clint whoops as Tony sighs.

“I would’ve won if ‘shop incidents counted!” Tony protests.

“Equal opportunity has to apply, so only battle-related incidents count,” Phil says without missing a beat.

“I’ll have to do better for next year,” the engineer says, mournfully.

“Please don’t,” Bruce, Natasha, and Steve chorus.

“Besides, you wouldn’t want to miss out on the prize for _least_ near-misses,” Phil states.

“No fair, you didn’t say there was a prize for that!” Clint whines, Tony nodding vigorously in agreement.

“I didn’t think I needed to encourage behaviour likely to keep you alive,” Phil says. “Clearly I overestimated your survival instincts.”

“Well, who won that one?” Steve asks.

“Any bets?” Phil asks.

“I’m betting on Natasha,” Clint says at once.

“I believe our esteemed Captain is likely to win this war,” Thor says, nodding to Steve.

“I’ll bet on Natasha,” Steve sighs.

“I’m betting on myself as well,” Natasha says.

They all look at Tony, who is deep in thought. “I bet it’s Bruce, actually,” Tony says.

Phil smirks, and gestures at the ceiling.

“Dr. Banner is indeed the winner,” Jarvis affirms.

Bruce blushes and grins as they all turn to look at him.

“Not fair,” Tony grumbles. “He’s the _Hulk_ , how many near-misses can he actually have?”

“Even the Hulk is better at avoiding problematic situations than you and Clint,” Phil says sharply. “Which is truly saying something. And as we have been counting items such as getting slimed, there is still equal opportunity.”

Clint and Tony snort, unimpressed.

“And the prize is a free field trip of your choice,” Phil tells Bruce. Everyone gasps. Field Trip permission slips have been coveted among the Avengers since their inception.

“I’m going to that conference on radiation in May,” Bruce says, not missing a beat. “It’s in Italy. I want proper Gelato.”

“Gelato? You’re wasting a permission slip on gelato?! I could have it flown in for you! Why aren’t you going to study in Asgard? Or do research on Pym Particles? Or -”

“I like Gelato,” Bruce says, eyes narrowing minutely.

Tony sighs dramatically and stands. “I’m going to the workshop to work out my frustration with this development.”

“You mean to sulk?” Steve asks, eyes twinkling.

Tony saunters out of the room, never deigning to respond as Clint sniggers at his retreating back.

Phil shuts everything off. “See you all next year,” he says, and he and Loki dramatically vanish in a swirl of green, magical energy, Loki giggling uncontrollably.

They reappear in the kitchen. “You win April Fool’s Day by default. The Avengers will be celebrating an alternate holiday,” Phil says.

Loki’s face matches the one Tony was wearing on his way to sulk when he vanishes in a swirl of green.


	12. April

**April 28: Take your Daughter to Work Day**

Clint cheerfully swung Lila up onto his shoulders. She laughed and tucked her fingers into his hair. Clint oofed dramatically. “Think you’re getting a bit big for this,” he groaned, grinning.

Lila bopped him on the head. “Am not. Is that Iron Man.”

“Sure is, and … Darcy?”

“Barton! You brought the mini-you!”

“What’s Darcy doing here.”

Tony and Darcy put on matching smirks. “She’s the unofficial love child I never had,” Tony said.

Clint blinked. “...So wait. Is she your daughter or not? Does Coulson know about this? I feel like this is something Coulson should know.”

Lila nodded in solemn agreement.

Darcy grinned and bounced on her feet. “Oooo, can I tell him? I want to see his face.”

Tony sniggered.

“Tell me what?”

The two brunettes spun on their heels and smirked at Phil, who had entered the room behind them at some point. Phil paled.

“You two… know… each other?” He asked.

“Meet the unofficial love child I never had!” Tony said, gleefully. 

A long silence ensued.

“Daddy, Uncle Phil’s face looks funny,” Lila whispered.

Tony, Darcy, and Clint absolutely lost it. Clint almost dropped Lila as he guffawed, but easily swung her to her feet instead.

* * *

Hella sighed and gave her dad a marginal smile as he cackled. “Why do we have to take over the world?”

“It’s take your daughter to work day, and those pitiful Midgardians will rue the holiday ever being created!” Loki said dramatically.

“Is this a ‘my daughter is cooler than your daughter’ thing?”

“No!”

Hella rolled her eyes - well, the one not hidden under her hair. “Fine, but is this costume really necessary?”

“Of course!” Loki said.

Hella sighed and looked at herself in the mirror again. At least her dad had remembered that she didn’t like to show the dead half of her body; the uniform came complete with a half-mask and gloves. Green, black, and gold, she supposed her dad had had worse ideas. And it wasn’t like anyone she knew would see her here. “Whatever,” she said. “Why don’t Jor or Fen have to come?”

Loki was suddenly quiet, and Hella winced. Right. Loki wasn’t supposed to see them, ever. She was pretty sure he did anyway, but he couldn’t advertise the fact.

“Well, are we doing this or not? I have a very important meeting with a dead king later.”

Loki beamed at her, and they vanished in a swirl of green magic.

* * *

Fury tossed the file on his desk, steepled his fingers, and met Coulson’s eyes over the top of them.

“Agent. I believe we discussed the Avengers’ tendencies to celebrate holidays in an unorthodox manner.”

“We did, sir.” Coulson replied, entirely unruffled.

“And yet, I find this report on my desk. Massive levels of destruction -”

“There were only 2.3 million in damages, that’s pretty good for them -”

“Mental trauma -”

“We actually only had to send about fifty agents to psych this time -”

“And teenage snark.”

“To be fair, sir, that was mostly from Loki’s daughter. We couldn’t exactly stop him from bringing her, since we didn’t realize she existed.”

Fury closed his eyes and took a deep, deep breath.

“At least I managed to stop them celebrating April Fool’s, sir.”

“Thank God.”


End file.
